How to Meditate
Don't be put off by the granola-eating associations. Meditation is for everyone, from NFL athletes to corporate CEOS to you.
I taught Yoga for fifteen years, two classes every week, in addition to Pilates, weight-lifting, writing, and being a single mom. My favorite Yoga class was the one on Saturday afternoon, which was especially welcome after a busy morning spent feeding hungry kids, taking care of my personal training clients, and teaching both weight-lifting and Pilates. By the time 12:30 rolled around, I was ready for Yoga—specifically, what came at the end of class, which was a luxurious ten-minute meditation.
Some people did the Yoga, but wouldn’t stay for the meditation. “Honestly, it feels like I’m dying,” one of my students explained. More than a few asked if Yoga was Satanic. “I don’t think my pastor wants me doing meditation,” a woman sheepishly confessed.
“You know that all we’re doing is sitting quietly and focusing on our breath,” I said.
“But Yoga isn’t Christian.” Her gaze darted around the studio as though evil spirits lay in wait. “It’s some kind of weird Indian thing.”
While it’s true that Yoga was developed by the Indus-Sarasvati civilization in Northern India over 5,000 years ago, it is far from a “weird Indian thing.” The original purpose of yoga was to train the body and mind to observe and grow aware of their own separate and interdependent natures.
In other words, to exhaust the body so the mind would finally be still.
For most of us, a quiet mind can be tricky. The mind/ego doesn’t want to give up its ceaseless chatter. The mind/ego wants to keep you separate and alone (people are awful; no one understands me; I’m too damaged to have a normal human relationship). It drives you to seek approval from others (if my boss likes me, maybe I can get that promotion), while withholding it from yourself (I’m just one of those people no one notices or loves). Yes, the mind/ego keeps you organized and on time for appointments, but for most of the 7 billion people on this planet, the anxious, frantic ego is driving them quietly insane.
That’s where meditation comes in.
Meditation pulls you out of the past with all its pain and frustration that you can do nothing about because it’s the past.
Meditation brings you back from the future with all of its fear and anxiety that bedevils you because it’s the future (and it might go poorly).
Meditation keeps you to the present moment.
Why is that important? Because the present moment is the truth, perhaps the only truth, available to us. Someone who is present isn’t running the story of what happened five minutes, five months, five years ago. They’re simply open to what’s going on right here, right now. Their senses aren’t dulled by the mad repetition of rat-wheel thoughts. Their senses are alive to what’s going on in that moment.
Someone who is present isn’t bogged down by mental and emotional clutter. How can they be, when they are present?
All we have is this moment.
Now this one.
Now this one.
Where we err is in forgetting that and getting caught up in the future or the past instead of the now.
Sanity is restored to us by opening our six senses and becoming very present with the is-ness of the moment, whatever it may offer.
For me, a deeper layer of presence is possible when my physical energy is spent—a demanding Yoga session, a long walk, an afternoon of sightseeing—but these are not necessary conditions. You can meditate right where you are, unless you’re driving a car or operating heavy machinery.
Do not expect what the Buddhists call your “monkey mind” to give up easily. You need to be okay with that. We go into meditation without expectation of reward. We go into meditation without comparisons to others or our own previous experiences. We go into meditation without agenda; for true presence, like a cat, will not sit in your lap if it knows you’re up to something.
We accept the present moment as it is. In some moments, our minds might be churlish, chatty, rebellious, sulky. In others, our minds might be as tranquil as a pond at dawn. Both are valid. One is not better than the other. We accept the is-ness of the present moment.
We trip ourselves up by attaching value to our experience, by striving to attain some impossible ideal. Some meditations will be so profound, we never want them to end. Our temptation will be to compare all other meditations to that one. Resist that temptation. The cat playing with catnip is just as enjoyable and fascinating as the cat purring against your leg.
By breathing and remaining present, we are better able to sense our own resistance, where it is in the body, what it’s about. By sitting and breathing, our relationship with that resistance changes. Sometimes resistance itself changes. When we’re ready, we can get it go.
Meditation is a process.
The more of it we do, the more we trust the process.
The more we trust the process, the less resistance we might feel about doing it.
Notice I did not say, “the better at meditation we get.” That’s because there is no better. There’s just what is. The mind/ego wants you to “improve,” “get better at,” “achieve,” but that’s not the purpose of meditation. The purpose of meditation is to breathe, let the mind go still (if it is so inclined), and to observe both the mind and the body without judgment.
We don’t label our thoughts good or bad, just as we don’t label our ability to remain still for long periods of time as advanced or remedial.
We just breathe. That is all. We follow the breath in, and then we follow the breath out. What happens after that is what happens.
For the purposes of easing you gently into the practice of meditation, I’d like to describe a few techniques. Hardcore meditators (my brother is one of them) can sit for 8-10 hours at a time, but that’s not what I’m recommending for you, not in the beginning. He’s been meditating for a very long time. This evolution happened organically for him. We are all unique, and our water lines are drawn in different places. Don’t push. Let it evolve.
Make yourself comfortable, but not so comfortable that you’re tempted to fall asleep. You can sit on the floor, on a cushion on the floor, or in a chair. Notice how right away, you feel a sense of intention, as in you intend to meditate and get something out of it. Let that go. We’re just here to breathe.
It doesn’t have to be perfectly quiet. Nor should it be too noisy. Your hungry mind will grab onto every little distraction it can at first, so try to find a peaceful solution that works for you, even if that involves noise-cancelling headphones. I’m not recommending them; merely suggesting that, depending on where you live, they might be useful.
When you feel like it (again, without intention), begin to follow your breath in and follow your breath out. In your mind, you can say to yourself, This is me breathing in, followed by, This is me breathing out. Mentally reciting this will help crowd out intrusive thoughts or leave space between them. Space is good. We like space.
The more deeply relaxed you become, the harder it will be for you to hold onto this “mantra.” Let it go of anything that does not serve you. If your mind starts wandering again, don’t scold it or reject it or make it wrong. Distract it, as you would a child—for what is the mind if not a child that needs and covets? Say your breathing mantra again: This is me breathing in. This is me breathing out.
Have no expectations. You’re not supposed to feel any way but how you feel. And yet, at some point—maybe at the top of the breath, maybe at the bottom—your mind might experience a pause, a stillness. Welcome it. When it goes, it goes. You cannot chase it any more than you could chase a cat and demand it stay with you.
Open your ears. Listen to what’s happening around you without attempting to label individual sounds. Reality is what reality is. It is we who must attach a value judgment to reality, making it good or bad. In meditation, there’s only what is.
With no expectations, we wait and see where meditation takes us. We practice—daily, if we can—not to achieve any specific state of consciousness, but to remain open to ourselves. It doesn’t have to be elaborate—I know meditators who have no fixed practice. Instead, they meditate for a few seconds every day at their desks, at the table, in the shower. It’s about conscious breathing, and that’s something we can do just about anywhere, anytime.
Do resist the temptation to “run the story of what happened,” which will trap you inside the mind/ego narrative and prevent you from actually feeling the emotions underneath it, except hurt and anger. Instead, just let the feelings arise on their own, without the story. You will find that when you stop running from your feelings, they no longer have the power to overwhelm and consume you. It’s the equivalent of flinging open the closet door and confronting the monster within, the one that’s been threatening to devour you for so long. And whaddya know—it’s not so scary after all.
How long should you meditate? I find that it’s best not to prescribe a set time. In the beginning, you may find two minutes agonizing or twenty minutes not enough. Start with two minutes and work your way from there. Let it happen organically. Don’t start placing conditions on your practice. Being consistent is more important than achieving goals.
We all have days when meditation feels impossible. This, too, is part of your practice. I recommend using what tools are available to you, perhaps ambient-drone music or doing a guided meditation.
Here is Steve Roach’s A Deeper Silence, which you may find useful:
Binaural beats:
A personal favorite, The Lovely Moon:
And for comprehensive guided meditations, I recommend the following app. This is not to say other apps are inferior; just that this one is free and dependable. So far, I like it a lot: Insight Timer.
So, just to summarize the information:
Sit comfortably.
Follow the breath in, follow the breath out.
When you get distracted by your thoughts, gently return to conscious breathing.
Don’t do. Just be.
If you would like to ask any specific questions about meditation, I’m here for you! Drop me an email or leave a comment below. I’m eager to hear what your experience has been.